Hands
by swiftyniftykitty13
Summary: Dean meets Lisa one day and they start to date. She learns quickly about hunting, and after a long while filled with conflict, Dean agrees she can start as well. Alternate universe. Dean falls in love with her, and they have Ben. Some parts based off of episodes.


Hands

His hands were...

Soft, but firm.

Fragile, but dangerous.

Careful, but unsafe.

They could hold his child's hand as he carried him, fast asleep on his daddy's shoulder. Minutes later there could be a demon around the corner and he would get shot, or stabbed, just making sure his child got inside alright. Carrying moving boxes around their house making sure not to break the new china that she would scold at him about. The next time he would be moving a box of holy water, silver knives, and matches.

And now, they laid together, her hands now taking his's place. One ran through his damp hair, the other running up and down his chest in a soothing manner. He would shudder occasionally, and she would hush him and kiss his forehead, sometimes the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered in the moonlight, forehead twitching with fear of his daily nightmares. She could only dare think of something light. Hell? The apocalypse? Something like Purgatory confirmed that he would refuse to sleep for days, and the first time that happened, it started the fights. And his drinking. She cried that first night, when she knew that there was no way the Impala would be back in its place 'round the block, a smile cornering his mouth as he came up the porch. Their dear son had been so confused.

"Momma," He'd said. "Where's daddy?" She had looked out the window before answering, hoping any headlights would reveal the Chevrolet logo on the front of his car.

"I don't know, hon." She had said. She never turned away from any unlooked corners, praying she would find his goofy side smirk out from behind one of them. She still remembered those special days. The earlier ones, the easier ones...

_The day they met..._

She walked through a Barnes and Noble, in a one-horse town called Cicero, Indiana. She browsed through the music in the back of the large store, looking for her favorite old Guns N' Roses album, the greatest hits from 2004. He came up behind her, smiling subtly when he saw the album clutched in her freshly manicured hand.

"Guns N' Roses, huh?" He had said, tucking back his old leather jacket and putting a hand on his hip. She turned around, not expecting the green eyes that still give her goosebumps. He held a thick stack of books, all from the mythical creatures section.

"Oh-yeah, my dad got me started on them before I could even tell you the difference between a gun and a rose." She smiled lightly up at him, her brown eyes shy and her even darker brown hair hiding her fair-skinned face. As he looked her up and down, not in a creepy way or a player would, but a flick up and down her body could tell him something would happen before they left the store.

He laughed as he smiled back, and replied, "Same. My dad's pretty much given every bit of his knowledge to me and my brother, Sam."

Her expression got more curious, and as she walked up behind him to checkout, she asked, "Oh, you have a brother?" He lost it; would someone really attractive start a conversation with him then make him talk about his brother?

He made sure to hide the way his face fell slightly as he continued. "Uh, yeah, he's a few years younger than me. "

"Do you have any other siblings?" She smiled as she took her receipt. He stood next to her at the counter, watching her sign the receipt.

"Uh, no, I don't. By the way, I'm Dean." He said. Dean looked down at his shoes, the same ones he has worn since high school. She smiled at him, gingerly touching his arm.

"Lisa." She replied, pulling away.

As they left Barnes and Noble together, they stopped outside of a black car.

"Nice car." Lisa told him. He smiled proudly at it, the '67 Chevy Impala was family.

"Thanks. It was my dad's. He gave it to me right before he died, about a year and a half ago." Said Dean.

"I'm sorry. How did he die?" Lisa asked sympathetically. As he hesitated, Dean bounced between his feet.

"A uh, heart attack." How was Dean supposed to tell someone that his father sold his soul to a demon? Ah, yes. The weirdest thing about the Winchesters. See, the Winchesters, are monster hunters. They hunt the supernatural things that roam our earth, the ghosts you'd see in you're closet when you were a kid, and that thing with glowing eyes underneath you're bed. It had started when John, their father, had met their mother Mary and learned that her parents were hunters. When they married they hunted together and learned everything about any kind of monster, and it had passed on to Dean and Sam. A few years back, Dean had gotten accustomed to hunting and wanted Sam to be his partner. When he turned down the offer for Stanford and a career in lawyering, Dean went on anyway independently. He had kept in touch with his father, occasionally asking for help on a job.

Negativity was a hunter's best friend, however. A tragic accident on November 2, 1983 damaged the Winchester household;literally. After making a deal with a demon - her soul for leaving her loved ones alone - Mary Winchester was pinned to the ceiling of baby Sam's nursery after a demon killed her. The action set their house on fire, and in the midst of flames, four year old Dean ran out carrying Sam. They sat together on the hood of John's car as firemen appeared, and John came out, shaking and wrapping up Dean with Sam in his arms.

Mary was the supernatural glue of the Winchester generation, being the start of it. She forever would be.

_Present_

Lisa looked at him with a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry." Dean nodded.

"Yeah. I'm used to it." He reached into his pocket and handed it to her.

"Call me." He whispered and kissed her cheek. He got in his car, throwing his bag of books next to him. The car rumbled as it started, and the radio played a Led Zeppelin tape. Dean winked typically and drove away.

* * *

Dean opened the hotel room in Detroit, Michigan and dropped the books on the bed. He looked around for Sam but the room was vacant.

"Sam?" He checked the bathroom.

"Sammy?" He walked back to the lobby and bar but there was only the bartender and a few lone people on the couches of the lobby.

Pulling out his cell phone, he decided to call the only family Sam and him had left; Bobby Singer. Bobby was as much as a father to the boys as anyone. He was the greatest friend the brothers could have for hunting.

The machine rang twice, before Bobby picked up. "Dean?"

"Bobby, have you heard from Sam at all?" Dean looked out the window for any car.

"You're not with him? Where _have_ you been, boy?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, then ran his thumb across his lip; something he did often when he was worried. "I was in Indiana. Remember the demon problem in Cicero?"

"Yeah, I remember." Bobby said grumpily. "Idgit you are, for going alone though."

"I just got back to the hotel in Detroit. Completely empty. No messages, no notes." Dean looked around for any sign of anything, and glanced in the corner next to the bed. The nightstand corner was scratched. A frame was knocked over with the glass cracked. There was a streak of blood on the comforter.

"Bobby something happened here." Dean's voice cracked.

"Like what? What do you see?" Bobby asked.

"There's blood on the bed, and a cracked frame." Dean was already packing his bag, stuffing his clothes and throwing books and bibles and salt in random pockets.

"I'm leaving the hotel, Bobby. I have to find Sam." Dean said, throwing open the door.

"Alright. Be careful boy and call me if anything happens." Bobby reminded him. Dean hung up without another word, and drove off into the setting sun.


End file.
